


my battery's at one percent, and so am I

by doofusface



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship, Gen, I WROTE THIS BEFORE IW THERE ARE NO SPOILERS, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Infinity War, Psychological Trauma, Talking, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 18:46:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14361414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doofusface/pseuds/doofusface
Summary: Sometimes, all youcando is hang out in your friend's apartment, and talk about how you died and then... stopped being dead.Somehow.Oh, and group hugs!Don't neglect the group hugs.





	my battery's at one percent, and so am I

**Author's Note:**

> tw stabbing n guns mention, not graphic, and probably not what you think  
> also tw death mention
> 
> it's a lot lighter than you think i Guarantee

Peter comes back two weeks later, even if it feels like two years.

The destruction is thwarted by magic and more magic and something scientific by Asgardian standards, but _definitely_ still categorized as “magic” by the common man.

New York is good at picking up immediately after tragedies, so, surprise of surprises, news of school _not_ starting up for _another month_ is messing with MJ and Ned’s brains.

What do you do when you’re back to summer break two months since its ended?

What do you do when you’ve just survived the world ending and still can’t look at your died-for-a-second-but-are-back-to-life-now-because-of-magic classmates?

“I think I need therapy,” Ned blanks, staring at the wall opposite Peter’s top bunk.

“My parents tried to get me an appointment, but everyone’s booked solid,” MJ says in an equally empty tone, from the swivel chair by Peter’s desk.

It’s hollow in the Parker apartment.

So hollow.

May’s stuck at work, because nurses don’t get a month off, just them—just the mentally- and physically-sapped youth of New York City and its surrounding boroughs.

Someone’s phone plays R2-D2’s _distressed beeping_.

“Peter’s on his way,” MJ says.

She should be more excited.

They’d promised to talk about some Things on the call he’d made before he got shipped off to Alien Land, and they were supposed to be positive Things.

Things about like, being officially let into his Spider-Man world.

And maybe feelings.

But.

 _Man_.

It’s hard to get excited right now, honestly, when you remember how you were on death’s door exactly four days, eight hours, and fifty minutes ago, and how you jumped through one minute after.

And then you were back.

Somehow.

Ned plays a song from his phone to fill the void, and they both silently spread out onto the floor, staring at the ceiling.

“What’s this?” MJ asks, if only to be polite.

“ _Mundo_ ,” Ned says, probably for the same reason. “It means ‘world’.”

“Is it a sad song?”

“No.”

“It sounds sad.”

“It’s a love song.”

MJ closes her eyes, the airy, electronic sounds calming her. “Sad love songs exist.”

Ned frowns, even if she can’t see it. “It’s about someone coming home.”

“So you’ve picked theme music.”

“I’m a good wingman.”

“What’re they saying?”

“Right now?” It’s the chorus.

“Yeah.”

“‘My love, you’re the home and the world’,” Ned says after the first line. He squints at the second and third, treading slower. “‘At’...‘the— _your_ return’? ‘I’ll stay’...‘by your side’—or ‘with you’. ‘The world will be you’. Something like that. No pronouns in the first part, and uh, context clues.”

“How literal was that?” MJ asks.

“A lot, but still applies,” he says. “Most of the words are used poetically, so you can read between the lines from there, if you want.”

“ _Hmm_.”

They listen in silence, the guitar building as a single phrase is repeated.

Something in MJ feels a _tug_.

Ned sings along with zero emotion.

“What does it mean?” she asks, opening her eyes.

“‘No getting lost’,” he says, before scrunching up his face. “No, ‘no more getting lost’ is better.”

“Nice sentiment.”

“It’s a good song.”

 _Mundo_ ends, fading off.

 _Helpless_ plays next.

MJ snorts. “You trying to send a message, Leeds?”

“I play love music when I’m stressed,” Ned pouts. “You know that.”

“Yeah.”

“What’re you gonna do when he gets here?”

He feels her shrug, the motion reaching her hands. “Die, probably.”

“...That’s not funny.”

“Yes, it is.”

Ned fails to hide his weak, near-mirthless chuckle. “Yeah, I guess it is. A little bit.”

“Do you think the humor of our generation will be just—” MJ raises a hand to ceiling, stretching her fingers, “—like, death humor? Like plague jokes, but worse?”

“Maybe.”

“Do you want it to be?”

“Nope.”

“Same,” she says, raising her other hand, making mirroring movements. “So weird to be back.”

“I kept staring at the mirror when I got home,” he says, turning his head to look at her briefly. “Thought I’d disappear.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Same.”

“That was a little pretentious.”

“Really?”

“Nah,” MJ says, glancing at him. “I’m trying to make a joke.”

“That bad, huh?”

She curls her back, adjusting. Visions of fire and _falling_ sneak into her train of thought, and she jumps off, because that’s not a good thing to get into right now.

She huffs. “I’m pretty desperate, can’t you tell?”

Ned sighs. Ten and twenty and thirty—all in a row, cars getting smashed to bits like they were made of paper or tissue or tissue paper. He likes to pretend they’re unoccupied, and that he didn’t actually watch it happen.

He inhales. “Can’t tell much of anything anymore. You had a few good ones earlier.”

“Thanks.”

The music continues, switching around different genres, different languages. MJ notes that not a single one—of the English songs, at least—is about a breakup, and that Ned had managed to find songs for platonic love, too.

It’s nice.

They’re both dying inside, but it’s nice.

Ned checks his phone a long while later, and is greeted by a clock that tells him an hour’s passed.

Peter’s due any moment, if he’s coming straight from the Avengers facility.

Mostly, Ned’s surprised his phone lasted this long.

“It’s almost five,” he says, plopping his phone back between them. “Did he text you?”

“Did you hear R2 screaming?”

“No.”

“Then no,” MJ blanks, raising her feet onto the computer chair. Usually, her tone could be misread as harsh, but today it’s devoid of even a little bit of sass, and Ned wonders how many hours it’ll take to feel like life’s in their lungs again.

“We got a game plan for this?” he asks, staring straight up at the ceiling.

MJ swallows thickly. “I vote to pretend we’re normal until we figure out if Pete’s mentally better or worse.”

“Do you have that energy?”

“I’ve got...some.”

Ned taps his chin, considering. “What’s the lifespan?”

MJ hums. “Ten minutes to an hour, depending on how little talking we do.”

“Then you’ll revert back to ‘empty’?”

“Yeah, then I’m back to this.” She _exhales_ , exhausted. “Yours?”

“Double, maybe triple if I can get him to talk about how cool it was to save the world.”

“Good, we’re both assuming he’s leaning to ‘Hyped’ instead of ‘Depressed’.”

“It’s Peter.”

“We’re us.”

“Good point,” Ned says, half-frowning. “Think he’ll notice?”

“Notice what?” a voice says from the doorway.

MJ hates herself for not noticing the apartment door opening.

Ned hates himself for playing the music too loud.

They both sit up, cramming every ounce of energy they have to smile warmly at Peter.

“Hey, Pete!” Ned says enthusiastically, and is surprised that it doesn’t come out as forced as it felt.

“‘Sup, hero?” MJ smiles, and is surprised that it actually reaches her eyes.

And her heart.

Feels great, really.

“ _Hey_ ,” Peter breathes, eyes crinkling and shining and _alive_. “Hey, guys.”

They notice his feet are still planted there, at the door. Still standing there, unmoving. Watching, if anything.

Watching _them_.

“You gonna come give us our quota for Peter-hugs, yet, nerd?” MJ says, finally.

The _hollow_ was getting to her again.

 _Jump off the train. Jump off and stay on the ground. Not here,_ please _, not_ now _,_ she begs her brain.

“Gimme a sec,” he smiles, breathing slowly.

She realizes he’s in the same clothes he’d been wearing when he left the bus That Day.

Ned notices he’s got a new backpack. He points at it. “Did Mr. Stark give that to you?”

Peter blinks. “Wh—The bag? Yeah.”

“Good eye,” MJ says, turning to Ned.

“Learned from the best,” Ned nods, exchanging a look with her. _Had to, when you were stuck across that weird chasm on Day Eight._

Peter stares at them. “Am I missing something?”

“Hugs,” MJ repeats, energy waning. “Please? I’m tired. Just. Hugs.”

His brows raise, surprised slightly. “Miss me that much, MJ?”

“Probably more, but not more than Ned or May.”

“Arguable,” Ned coughs.

Something in the air shifts, and he’s feeling a little better.

Might be Peter coming over and plopping between them, but who knows?

MJ automatically slings her an arm over both boys, silently declaring a group hug. “You’re warm, Pete.”

“You knew that already,” Peter says, opening up both arms to accommodate his friends.

“Yeah, but—” Pause.

“...MJ?”

Breathing. He’s warm and breathing and he’s alive.

“—nothing,” she finishes, snuggling closer to try to reach Ned.

Ned reaches back, and the circle is complete. “Did you see May?”

Peter nods. “Stopped by the hospital before I came here. ‘s why I was late.”

“Good boy,” MJ blanks.

“You guys wanna watch something?” Ned asks.

“I’m good here for now, if that’s okay,” Peter replies, squeezing a little on both their shoulders.

“Here,” MJ says as she moves his arm to her waist, and takes over his and Ned’s legs with hers. “Easier to reach Ned,” she explains, hugging over Peter’s shoulders.

Peter has the decency to blush. “ _Uh_.”

MJ currently feels near-nothing, but also has the same sense of decency. “...We’ll talk about it later.”

“Okay.”

“I’m always going to be your third wheel, you know,” Ned says, chuckling lightly.

“That’s fine, we both love you,” MJ says. “Plus, I’m bad at carrying conversations.”

“That’s not true,” Peter says seriously. “You get all excited about books and law and helping people and stuff.”

“Wow, you must really like me, huh?”

“He does,” Ned says, before singing along to _Latch_.

MJ lays her head on Peter’s shoulder. “Cool.”

He laughs. “Thanks.”

It’s the first time he’s laughed since he arrived at the apartment.

“Spotify is conspiring,” MJ says, listening to Ned’s singing.

“Might just be me,” Ned quips, missing a line. “ _I won’t let go of you._ ”

“It’s a hug song, MJ, c’mon,” Peter smiles, tugging them both to him again.

MJ _hums_ , leaning into her friends.

“Missed you,” Ned exhales as the song ends. “Like, you have _no idea_.”

Peter laughs again, but it’s empty. “I might.”

“You okay?”

“Now? Yeah,” Peter nods, looking between them. “Now, and when I saw May. I’m okay.”

“If you’re gonna try to get a therapist, everyone in New York’s fully-booked,” MJ mumbles.

“We’ve got one upstate.”

Ned quirks a brow. “Do they take walk-ins?”

“I can as—wait, what happened?” Peter says, straightening. “What did I miss?”

“ _One_ job, Ned,” MJ glares.

“You are going to ignore what I said,” Ned says, breaking the chain of limbs to try and jedi mind trick his friend.

Peter frowns. “No, I’m not.”

Ned pouts at MJ, shrugging. “Worth a shot.”

“Seriously, what happened?” Peter repeats, trying to gently pry them away from him. “You guys aren’t okay.”

“Nope,” MJ says, secret gone. “We’re not.”

“Don’t worry, dude,” Ned says, patting him. “We’ll be fine.”

 _Just gotta. Gotta ignore the cars. Ignore the cars, Ned_ , he thinks to himself.

“With lots and lots of therapy,” MJ adds, smiling tightly.

“Yeah, with _lots_ of therapy.”

Peter wiggles out of their hold, causing both of his friends to _groan_ in protest. “You always take care of me, so let me do _my_ job,” he says firmly, checking them both for injuries.

“You just helped save the world, I think you deserve a day off,” MJ says, lying back down on the floor and refusing to turn over for him.

Peter comes up above her face, frowning at her. “ _Turn_ , c’mon, let me see.”

“You won’t find anything,” Ned says copying her position, half a smile on his face. “ _We_ haven’t found anything.”

“Talk to me, guys,” Peter says, standing.

“We’re doing that, spandex.”

“...It’s vibranium now and you know it.”

“But ‘vibranium’ sounds cool, and you’re still not.”

“I don’t know what you were worried about,” Ned comments, turning his head to face her. “You’re still able to roast him with like, zero energy.”

MJ's eyebrows shoot up briefly. “Huh. You’re right.”

“I don’t appreciate this,” Peter cuts in, squatting by her. “I could lift you, you know,” he says.

“I’m feeling too pathetic to argue, so go for it,” she replies.

He does, and finds nothing.

She snorts. “Lemme guess: _nada_?”

“...I don’t understand what’s happening,” Peter pouts. “Or what _happened_.”

He turns to Ned, and the hacker turns voluntarily to speed up his investigation.

Peter makes a noise between  _My Friends Are Jerks_ and  _I'm On A Prank Show_.

Ned purses his lips, head on his arms. “I’m gonna bet: you didn’t find anything.”

“Can you guys just talk to me? Please?” Peter says, exasperated.

“You wanna tell him?” Ned says, looking at MJ.

She shrugs, rolling back to face the ceiling. “Peter," she starts evenly, "don’t freak out.”

Peter stands, looking them over again quickly, convinced he missed something. He sighs, defeated. “I promise.”

“And no telling May.”

“Okay.”

“Or Tony.”

“Deal.”

“If you break your promise, _we_ —” she says, gesturing to him and herself, “—aren’t happening. Ever.”

Peter nods.

“And Ned’s going to promote me to Best Friend #1.”

Peter balks, looking at Ned like he’d just shot Peter in the chest. Twice.

Ned nods, warning him.

...He schools himself back to composure. “I...accept the terms.”

“And conditions?”

“And conditions.”

MJ curses. “I thought you’d bail with that last one.”

“I need to know what happened, MJ,” Peter whispers, sitting down by her head.

“Fine,” she inhales, pursing her lips. “You died, right?”

“How did—”

“Unimportant.”

“Karen sent a message,” Ned murmurs.

“Seriously? _Seriously_ , Ned? Now? Really?” MJ deadpans, but it lacks fire.

Peter notes that she mostly sounds exhausted.

“Anyway,” she continues, taking deep breaths every now and then. “May didn’t let us wallow. And honestly, I think I was too mad at you to wallow, and Ned was too like, what’s the word—”

“—deranged?” Ned supplies helpfully.

“Yeah, deranged,” MJ nods. “Too deranged in like, a hacker _frenzy_ kinda way, trying to get supplies out to the population. So. We were very bad at responding to the news, I think, and then _they_ started hitting up the shelters, and you know, that’s not cool with me.”

Peter nods, staring at her with surprise. (Not about the aliens invading and MJ being upset, but about Ned going computer barbarian.)

“So we go rogue, sort of. Grabbed some kids from Midtown and booked it to the city.”

Peter’s trying _very hard_ not to freak out, but his foot is tapping wildly, and so are his fingers. 

_Why would you do that?_

MJ taps her pointer finger at the air, as if counting. “Stole a car.”

Ned makes a whining noise. “It was a _few_ cars.”

“I meant me, by myself,” she says.

“Oh, then yeah, continue.”

“Mhm. Stole a car. The others did, too. Made it into the city. City was trashed. Made it to the west side, but Ned was taking up the rear, and…” MJ squints, opening and closing her mouth in disbelief.

Peter touches her shoulder.

“Thanks,” she whispers.

“Take your time.”

“I should’ve wrote this down.”

“I tried,” Ned says.

MJ turns to him, raising a brow. “How far did you get?”

“Same spot,” he says, eyes looking distant.

“Well, good to know I’m not the only one,” she blanks, returning her gaze to the ceiling.

“Breathe, guys,” Peter says.

“Been doing that,” Ned quips, a little sharp.

“Ignore him, he’s still adjusting,” MJ says.

Peter furrows his brows. “What—”

“I’m getting to it. Um,” she breathes, raising her hands up to where she can see them. “So. I’m west side. Ned’s east. City shakes, we ditch the cars—big chasm opens. Appropriate levels of freaking out ensues. Ned radios in, his group’s fine. Mine’s good, too.”

Ned almost covers his ears like a child.

Almost.

MJ moves her fingers, frowning. “We’re kind of resigned to our fates at this point, so we go two ways instead of the original one. Ned gets all the way to the Upper East side within two days, but.”

“But?” Peter asks softly after a minute passes.

“I stopped answering,” Ned breathes.

Peter moves to the ceiling, looking down at them both. It keeps him from tapping.

MJ swallows thickly. “And there’s, y'know, there’s no way for me to reach May from the city, ‘cause she’s still in Queens, and cell lines are down. So we keep going. And we help some people.”

“Sally said it was a lot,” Ned cuts in.

“A lot, okay,” MJ concedes, breathing becoming erratic. “And then...”

Peter stares at her eyes, and finds broken glass. He drops down, holding both their hands.

Ned grips his like a stress ball; MJ barely interacts.

“Don’t go down the hole,” Peter whispers to her, squeezing her hand.

Her hand twitches. “I’m honestly glad you didn’t have to see it,” she whispers back, raspy.

“Feel a little better talking about it?”

“Nope.”

Peter nods. “It sucks for a while.”

“You’ve already had a therapy session?” Ned asks.

“For um, for Toomes,” Peter coughs, not eager to confess an old secret.

“What?” MJ asks, quirking a brow and turning to Ned. “You didn’t tell me about this?”

“I didn’t know,” Ned says, eyes wide as he stares at Peter. “You _died_?”

“Almost,” Peter smiles sheepishly. “But I didn’t. And I had to talk about it. And it didn’t stop sucking until like, a year later.”

“Group hug?” MJ offers, already lying on her side.

“Wait,” he says, smiling at them. “Just, let me look at you guys.”

Ned frowns. “You did. You found nothing.”

“No like, like _now_. Like this,” Peter says, eyes crinkling. “Look at us. We survived the end of the world.”

“Can I put ‘ _lasted longer than a literal superhero in an alien invasion_ ’ on my résumé?” MJ says, sitting up and poking Peter’s side.

“ _I’d_ hire you,” Ned says, letting go of Peter and leaning on his own arm.

“Melts my heart, Leeds.”

“That’s the best compliment I’m ever going to receive in this lifetime.”

“Which life?” MJ jokes, “Part one or part two?”

“Is this the humor now,” Peter deadpans.

“It’s my coping mechanism, Spidey-boy.”

“I mean, I know that,” he says, “but is this everyone?”

“We discussed this earlier,” Ned says. “And we hate the idea.”

Peter points at MJ, whose finger is still where she’d poked him. “She just made a joke.”

“That was a light one.”

MJ shrugs. “I’m giving myself a max of three per day until I’m back to normal.”

“You’re a weirdo,” Peter says, somehow making it sound like a compliment.

“I know, but my personal normal,” she says, digging her finger deeper. “He’s very solid, Ned, I think he’s definitely alive.”

“...Have you been trying to figure out if I was a ghost this entire time?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

Peter pauses, then shakes his head _slowly_.

“Hey, Peter,” Ned grins, grabbing his attention as _Rainbow_  plays. “Listen to this one.”

“I like this song,” MJ says, releasing the poke. She slings an arm over Peter’s shoulders.

“ _For as long as the world still turns, there will still be night and day_ ,” Ned croons, copying her.

“Poetic.”

“Think I can sing like that?” Peter asks, the falsettos filling the room.

“Nope, don’t even try,” MJ replies quickly, resting her head on his shoulder again. “Thanks for coming back.”

Peter blinks. “Huh.”

“What? Too soon?”

“Nah, I just...” He looks between them, grinning inexplicably, “Thanks, too. For coming back.”

“Death cannot defeat the great Ned Leeds,” Ned recites, gazing through the window dramatically.

“Drama club has changed you,” MJ blanks.

“Drama club is gonna be super messed up this year,” he realizes, grimacing. “Might have to pull a Peter.”

“ _Hey_ ,” Peter frowns, “are we really calling ‘quitting’, ‘pulling a Peter’?”

“Actually, we’ve called it that for two years now,” MJ says blandly.

Peter gawks at her.

She shrugs. “You weren’t around to hear it used, so.”

“I have a crush on a backstabber.”

“No, no,” she says, putting a hand up to both signal _Wait_ and to hide her blush. “That would be Jake, from fifth period? He stabbed someone on day...three?” she continues, tilting her head at Ned.

Ned drums his chin. “Four, I think.”

“Day four,” MJ nods. “Stabbed a dude. Right in the back. Turned out to be an alien, but now we know he knows how to use a knife.”

“Found out Cindy knows how to use a gun, too,” Ned reminds her.

“ _That_ ," MJ says, eyes widening slightly, "was _terrifying_.”

“Don’t worry,” Ned says, turning to a now incredulous-looking Peter. “She hates having that skill.”

“I’m…” Peter starts, floundering. “I’m not sure how to feel about this new information.”

“Fear’s a good start,” MJ quips.

“So we’re gonna go back to school, in senior year, with pure fear?” Peter asks, squinting.

MJ and Ned nod: “Yep.”

“What if I wanna be happy?”

“Do you, red rover,” MJ says, tightening her grip on his shoulder. “We’ll catch up eventually.”

“I promise to try,” Ned says solemnly, crossing his heart. He pauses. “But uh, just for future reference, don’t let me drive in traffic.”

Peter raises a brow.

“It was…” _Forget. Forget. Forget._ “...it was related. To the thing.”

His friend pulls him closer. “No prob, dude.” He turns to his...other...friend?

Mutually-liked companion?

Girl-slightly-above-a-friend?

 _Whatever, it's MJ_. “Anything I need to know?”

 _Pause_. “Don’t let me get anywhere near the Hudson.”

“And?” he coaxes, because she’s holding her breath.

“I hate that you know me,” she mutters, staring at the ground.

Peter smiles warmly.

“And, uh.” _Cough_. “And Penn Station.” She looks at him through her lashes. “This is my warning to never move to Long Island.”

“Or until you can handle it.”

“Or until I can handle it.”

“I think Ned’s thing is gonna be harder,” Peter says, remembering the disastrous traffic of NYC.

“It’s fine if I’m walking,” Ned says.

“He walked by Queens Blvd at rush hour all by himself today,” MJ says proudly, reaching over to ruffle his hair.

“ _Aw_ , thanks.”

“Always, dude.”

Ned turns to the middle-man. “Hey, what about you, Pete?”

“Don’t let me get shuttled off into space,” he says immediately.

“Done,” MJ says, making a stamping motion on the bed frame.

Ned nods. “So you say, so it shall be.”

“So, senior year,” Peter says, dragging them with him to the bed. He points at Ned, “No traffic—” he gestures to himself, “—no space—” he pokes MJ, “—no Penn, no Hudson. Got it.”

“Try to be happy,” MJ adds with a small smile, making an _Us_ motion.

“And go to therapy,” Ned says with a _snap_ of his fingers.

Peter grins. “Sounds like a plan.”

 _Hold Me Up_ bounces around the walls.

They look at each other, laughing.

Yeah.

Sounds like a plan.

**Author's Note:**

> ...and then May comes home and they all have tea and get into a cuddle puddle on the couch.
> 
> songs:  
> -Mundo by IV Of Spades (other translations exist to fit the melody, but the words have deeper meanings that I wanted to pick out)  
> -Helpless from Hamilton  
> -Latch by Sam Smith  
> -Rainbow by South Border  
> -Hold Me Up by Conrad Sewell
> 
> Penn is where the LIRR lines end up, so long islanders use it to commute to the city
> 
> fun fact my spotify jumped from mundo to helpless while i was writing the scene so i just shoved it in. there wasnt supposed to be any music but Here We Are
> 
> hello yes go see a therapist if you are able and have Problems PLS
> 
> thanks for coming to my crack!angst ted talk, have a good day and God bless you (find me and my fic bingo card on doofwrites on tumblr; yell at me there or in the comments <3)


End file.
